


First Snow

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Humor, M/M, i just dont know what to tag it as, i swear its not all sad ok, wheeeeeeeeeeee
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-04 11:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I kept crying and crying until I couldn’t cry anymore.</p><p>I wish I hadn’t.</p><p>I wish it was me who had pushed him out of the way.</p><p>I wish it was me who had been hit by that car.</p><p>I wish it was me who was dead.</p><p>But it wasn’t me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> holy krisus. it took me a little over a week, on and off, to write this. well, actually i wrote the first chapter first and then i went back and wrote this prologue, which technically isn't a prologue anymore because it's kind of long. it also hurts my feelings & has a lot of blood, so if you're triggered by that, please don't read. please let me know what you thought of this because i literally just?? HAHAHAH i killed my feelings.

The things I hated most about shoving my hands into pockets that didn't belong to me were the fact that they usually held trash like gum wrappers or even worse—used tissues. If neither was in there, it was usually lint and crumbs, and I don't really like picking out lint from underneath my fingernails when I neglected to cut them.

So normally, I didn't borrow other people's jackets and coats and I sure as hell didn't let them borrow mine. 

Except today was an exception.

Connie—that little  _bitch_ —decided it would be high- _fucking_ -larious to throw a couple snowballs at me when my back was turned to him. The impact made me shout some choice words at him, winter, and snowballs. Since my outerwear was a fleece hoodie—which seemed like a good idea at the time—the snow started to melt and seep through the fabric, making me shiver.

"Fuck you, Connie!" I yelled at him. "My hoodie's wet now!"

Connie let out a laugh, getting ready to toss another snowball that was probably going to be thrown in my face.

"Don't you even dare, Connie, or I'll shove my foot up your ass so far you—"

"Jean! Look, here, you can borrow mine," Marco offered, interrupting my sentence. Marco. Always being the peacemaker whenever my temper would flare. Thanks to him, I didn't get into fights as often as I would have without him. I don't know what I'd do without him, to be honest.

I looked at Marco who was already starting to shrug off his coat and hoodie. "Marco, it's okay, you don't have to lend me your hoodie..."

"It's okay," he said, firmly. "I want to." He held it out in his hand and I gave Connie a glare before unzipping my own hoodie.

"Thanks, man," I replied, grabbing it from his hand and shoving an arm through the sleeve.

"You're welcome, Jean!" Marco beamed down at me, and if it were anyone else, I probably would've made a face at them. Of course, I still made a face, but only because Marco was probably the only one I knew who had the capability to smile through anything. I smiled at him immediately after that though; I didn't want to offend him and Marco meant too much to me for me to brush him aside.

I'd also feel horrible because then he'd have this kicked puppy look on his face—and I don't even know whether or not it was intentional—and it made feel like I had committed a felony.

After the hoodie was on, I tried to keep my hands out of Marco's pockets as much as possible. It wasn't like I didn't trust Marco to be a clean person, it's just that you never know, and I'd rather be safe than sorry. I also didn't want my perception of Marco's cleanliness to be shattered if I found out he kept trash in his pockets. Unfortunately, the cold air didn't let my fingers stay out for long, and soon, I was beginning to lose the feeling in them.

"Hey, Jean, nice shade of red your fingers are turning!" Connie remarked, probably mocking me from afar. 

If I didn't want to lose my appendages, I would've shoved ice down his throat.

Fortunately for Connie, death by choking was not what the fates had in store for him. The fact that Marco was starting to usher me away from him probably helped, too, but Connie better thank his lucky stars that he got to live another day.

I folded my hoodie up to a somewhat presentable square—or rectangle, because fuck it,  _does it really matter_?— and slid it into my messenger bag. I had emptied it out of my school stuff the night before, because quite frankly, I wasn't going to carry five hundred pound textbooks with me all day when I wouldn't even need them. 

That would be batshit crazy.

I shoved my hands into his pockets and was pleasantly pleased to find that his pockets held no such thing as trash. Upon further inspection, there was neither crumb nor dust and I was sure my fingernails would thank him later. Marco had always struck me to be the kind of guy that was overly neat and proper, and I’m not going to lie, I had always made fun of them—mostly in my mind— but now, I was kind of glad for Marco’s cleanliness.

Plus, the hoodie wasn’t half bad. It was actually kind of warmer than mine.

Which, I guess, would be sort of disappointing because I spent a lot of money on that jacket. I bet Marco bought his hoodie real cheap and was always cozy during winter because of how warm it is.

Would he notice if I took it and never returned it?

Not that I’m serious or anything. I’m just curious.

"You guys gonna be joining us in the journey to help Jean find the best place to drink hot chocolate?” Marco asked, looking back at Connie and Reiner, which was a weird combo to begin with, in my opinion. Not that I didn’t think they could be friends or whatever.

I just thought it was weird because Sasha wasn’t hanging out with Connie like she usually did.

I didn’t question it though—I didn’t need _two_ idiots here. I don’t think I could handle both of them at the same time.

“Nah, I think I’ll go have a snowball fight with some unwilling strangers,” Connie replied, motioning Reiner to follow him. “We’ll catch up after we’re done.”

“What do you mean, _we_? I don’t want to end up in jail because of you.”

“We’re not going to go to jail.”

“Sure, you can say that to me behind bars.”

“Are you implying that you’re going to end up in jail?”

“ _What_? No! _You’re_ going to end up in jail if you start to harass them!”

“Yeah, yeah. Stop being such a worry wart!”

I bet ten bucks that Connie was going to get in trouble with the police later.

“Alright, well, try not to annoy any police officers; I don’t want to get a call later at two in the morning from you asking me to pay your bail,” Marco joked.

He joked; I thought it was something completely believable. I wouldn’t be surprised if I was dragged to the police station by Marco because he didn’t want to go alone.

I started to walk ahead of Marco, hoping he’d catch on and leave them already. We were already losing precious daylight that could have been used to helping me find some awesome hot chocolate.

Luckily, Marco was a smart kid with freckles and he waved goodbye to them. With his legs that were longer than mine—I admitted, painfully so—he easily caught up to me, and changed his pace to match mine.

“Starbucks?” he asked, tilting his head.

“I dunno. Do they sell hot chocolate?”

“I dunno. Do they?”

I rolled my eyes.

“I don’t know, _you’re_ the one who suggested it, so I had _hoped_ you had some knowledge of it.”

Obviously, his smarts didn’t apply to Starbucks.

“It was the first place that came to mind!” Marco replied, trying to defend himself.

It was becoming quite clear to me that Marco had never been to Starbucks before and was clearly no help in this sort of topic. Why I brought him along with me, I had no idea.

“Whatever, Marco. We can go to Starbucks and see if they have hot chocolate. If they do, you’re treating me to some. And if it’s bad, you’re treating me to the next place we go. Deal?” I asked him, tilting my head.

Marco raised an eyebrow. “Why do I have to treat you?”

“Because Starbucks was _your_ idea.”

 _Obviously_.

“Okay, so I get that part, but then why do I have to treat you to your next cup of hot chocolate?”

“Because if it tastes bad, that is sort of your fault, so of course, you have to compensate for it.”

He rolled his eyes, in what I assumed to be in a good natured way. But if one day Marco decided to trip me, every time I had defended Marco of being a good guy would obviously be a lie. That would, regrettably, make me a liar, and would probably shatter every perception I had of him.

We don’t call him Freckled Jesus for nothing.

Marco and I had finally walked to the crosswalk and were patiently—well, he was waiting patiently. _I_ was practically bouncing on my heels, waiting for the light to change so we could walk across.

And it sucked waiting, because there were _no_ cars passing through, and I had suggested moving across the street while there were no cars in our midst, but _no_. Marco wanted to be a law abiding citizen and wait until the light changed.

It was taking forever, and I swear, by the time the light changed, I was growing a few gray hairs already.

Marco looked both ways like the diligent citizen he was and started walking across the road. I followed him, trailing a few steps behind him, looking at the ground, a little bit more interested on the ice crystals forming on the road than reaching the other side of the sidewalk.

What happened next were sort of a blur, and the next thing I knew, I was being viciously yanked forward and then pushed onto the sidewalk, scraping my palms a little, and I’m almost sure I got brush burns on my knees by how hard I slid against the pavement.

I heard tires screeching and bone-chilling screams and my blood turned cold.

 _Marco_.

It was like everything had turned into slow motion. I could hear the car—it had to be a car, _it was always a car_ —swerve into the nearest pole, and I’m pretty sure it hit other cars, judging by the sound of car alarms. Dogs around the neighborhood started barking as if they knew something bad had happened. I could practically hear the bystanders’ sharp intake of air as they started to gather around

I prayed nothing happened to him. I prayed that Marco had managed to get out of the way in time and that he was okay. I prayed that that scream wasn’t his. That my best friend’s last words weren’t, _why do I have to treat you to your next cup of hot chocolate?_

I wanted to move; I swear to _God_ , I did.

But I couldn’t. I couldn’t even get up off the ground or turn my head around.

It wasn’t until someone yelled to go call 911 that I managed to stand up and turn around.

Blood.

There was blood everywhere, and I almost lost my lunch. I’ve never seen this much blood before, and I still prayed that it wasn’t his.

I saw him on the street, his arm twisted in an angle in a way that I didn’t think he’d ever use that arm ever again. He was lying on his stomach, a pool of red blood— _Marco’s_ _blood_ —and I could almost see his face from here.

I took two unsteady steps towards him, and took a deep breath, almost gagging at the stench of blood. Steeling myself, I continued walking towards him, and I finally saw his face. His eyes were glazed over and his mouth hung wide open.

I ran.

I ran towards him, ignoring the blood, ignoring his arm, and I crouched down beside him. I carefully flipped him over to his back, and I slipped my arm around Marco’s shoulders, holding him. Blood stained my clothes, stained _his_ hoodie, but I didn’t care.

I needed this.

I needed to make sure he was okay. He _had_ to be okay.

This—this was just a flesh wound that could easily be taken care of.

Marco… Marco would be as good as new again. I just needed to stay here until the paramedics came.

I grabbed his hand and squeezed it, trying to find solace. I tried to reassure him that he was going to be okay. His hand was cold and I couldn’t tell if it was because it was winter or if it was because he was dying.

Marco’s head lolled to side, and his glassy eyes stared straight into mine. No, he wasn’t staring straight into mine, he was staring beyond me. “Hey, Marco.” I heard my voice crack. Was I going to cry? He’s… he’s not dead. “What are you staring at? Is it… is it because my face is so… so handsome?” I bit my lip. “Is that why you can’t take your—“ _soulless_ “—eyes off of me?”

I felt something hot run down my cheeks, and I figured I was crying. I shouldn’t be crying. Marco wouldn’t want me to cry.

Once I started crying, it was like something in me finally acknowledged the truth.

 _Marco was dead_.

And he’s never going to come back to life.

He’s never going to smile that smile of his. He’s never going to stop me from getting into fights. He’s never going to laugh at my poorly executed jokes.

Worst of all, he’s never going to be my best friend again.

I let out a choked sob, screwing my eyes shut as I brought Marco’s hand to my forehead. I kept on muttering his name like it would bring him back to life.

It didn’t.

I tried not to cry; I really did.

I just kept holding on to Marco’s hand for dear life, never letting go. He was so cold, and I’m pretty sure I was cold, too, but I didn’t want to leave him. I didn’t want to say goodbye. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

I don’t think I ever will be.

When the paramedics arrived, they had to pry my hand out of Marco’s. I didn’t leave his body without a fight. Two of them had to drag me to the sidewalk as other paramedics placed a tarp over him.

I wanted to yell at them.

I wanted to say, _“That’s not how you treat my best friend!_ ”

But I didn’t.

Instead, I crumpled to the ground, and I cried.

I could hear Connie and Reiner’s voices asking me, frantically, what was going on. Why was I covered in blood? Where was Marco?

I didn’t respond or more like, I _couldn’t_ respond. I couldn’t stop crying. I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t know what to do without my best friend.

So I cried.

I kept crying and crying until I couldn’t cry anymore.

I wish I hadn’t.

I wish it was me who had pushed him out of the way.

I wish it was me who had been hit by that car.

I wish it was me who was dead.

But it wasn’t me.


	2. I'm Struggling to Find You Who I Cannot See

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i have no idea what i'm doing

(Turn back the clock)  
If only I could go back one year   
(Turn back my heart)   
would we be different now?

Yeah. It's a stupid thought, but still,  _what if?_  

* * *

There wasn't really any way to describe how the weather was like, _except, damn, it's cold._  

I swear, my fucking fingers were about to fall off, and it wasn't like keeping them in my pocket helped either. My gloves pretty much hid themselves from me and that was the main reason why I may need prosthetic fingers later. Luckily though, I was able to find my scarf, which had been stuffed inside my hat.

I hate winter.

I hate the big puffy coats and I hate the wool scarves that your grandma knits you even though you already have like, a  _thousand_  from her  _last_ winter. I absolutely hate the cold, too. Every year, I’m at risk to lose one of my limbs, believe it or not.

I also hate winter because winter’s the last time I ever saw him.

Anyway, I’m more of an autumn person. It’s not too cold where I’d feel like my balls are trying to freeze itself yet not too warm that I’d want to strip everywhere I go. Plus, the colours of the leaves are  _fantastic_.

Not that I’m some kind of girly sap. If anything, that’s Jaeger right there.

Speaking of Jaeger, I saw him walking down the sidewalk, his nose looking like Rudolph the Reindeer. He was walking with his two friends that practically follow him  _everywhere_ , so it was no surprise when I saw them together. Their names were Mikasa and Armin, and if I had to describe each of them with one word, it’d be  _hot_  and  _nerd_ , respectively.

Armin was this kid who had blond hair styled as if he used a bowl to cut his hair. He was kind of scrawny and weak, but that didn’t mean his brain was big as hell. He practically knew everything there is to know!

Mikasa would probably be the polar opposite of him. She was pretty strong for a girl—not that I’m discriminating against girls, mind you—and she had straight black hair that framed her face kind of nicely. I used to have the biggest crush on her and I was pretty discreet with it, if you ask me.

You know, one time, being the smooth operator that I was, I told her that her hair was pretty, and you know what that bastard, Jaeger, tells her? To cut her hair because then it wouldn’t get in the way when she would be practicing tae kwon do! That was his excuse, of course, but in reality, he just couldn’t stand the fact that I liked her hair the way it was before.

“Jean, are you listening?”

Fuck, what?

While I was too busy fuming about Jaeger being a  _dick,_ I guess Armin and they were trying to talk to me. Armin looked at me kind of expectantly, and I furrowed my brows at him. What was I supposed to say? The truth?

“I could lie and say ‘yes,’ but, no. I wasn’t.”

Armin rolled his eyes at me as if I was the dumbest specimen on earth.

“I said, ‘hi,’ and then I asked how you were.”

“Oh.” Duh. “I’m great, except the fact that I’m expecting one of my limbs to just fall off from the cold.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty cold out here, isn’t it?” For emphasis, Armin shivered and wrapped his scarf a little tighter. “Are you going to do anything for Christmas?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Hell if I know. I’m probably just going to sit around my house.”

“You’re still not sad about…  _that_ , are you?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Of course not, idiot.”

“Are you sure? I mean, it’s almost been a year, but still—” Then Eren decided it would be a great idea to input his opinion.

“C’mon Armin, of  _course_  he’d still be upset. He’s kind of a pansy, you know.”

Mikasa let out a sharp sigh as she pulled Eren to the side. “Sorry, Jean.”

Armin glared at his friend who merely rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry about Eren. He didn’t mean what he said. Anyway, it’s okay if you’re still upset about Marco. I mean, it’s almost the anniversary of his death, isn’t it?”

I stiffened. “Yeah. Almost.”

I guess he must’ve noticed me stiffen because then he sent me an apologetic glance.

“Eren, Mikasa, and I are holding a Christmas party over at my apartment next week. You’re welcome to come. It’ll keep you distracted. I kind of need a head count for the party, so it’d be nice if you RSVP.”

“That sounds fun and all, but I don’t really want to go. I’m fine with staying at the dorms. Besides, I’m not some kind of injured animal that you need to nurse back to health.  _I’m fine_.”

“I didn’t say you were an injured animal,” Armin replied, concern showing on his face.

_Goddammit_.

“Look, I don’t need your pity, okay?”

Armin looked at me like he wanted to say more, but then he pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded his head. “Alright. Bye, Jean. Remember, the offer is still open if you want to come.”

“Yeah.” I watched as he walked back to his friends, and as an afterthought, I added, “Thanks.”

Armin smiled at me before turning around to walk to wherever they were going before they had run into me. I watched their backs get smaller and smaller until they turned around the corner and then they were gone.

“Shit!” I yelled, shivering violently. I forgot how cold it was. I jogged across campus, trying to avoid the parts where the snow wasn’t shoveled. Tried and failed. Snow was starting to seep into the fabric of my Chuck Taylors.

Great.

I ran even faster, turning around a corner where I can see the sweet sanctum of warmth from afar. Just thinking of drinking hot chocolate in my favourite mug and curling up with a blanket on the couch urged me to run faster. I could practically feel the hot chocolate running down my throat.

Pushing open one of the glass double doors, I stepped inside, and let out a satisfied sigh. I could feel my fingers starting to thaw, and I was grateful for the warm air. Goosebumps ran up and down my skin at the sudden change in temperature.

Let me tell you, I  _ran_  down the hallway to my dorm. I was  _not_  going to linger around the building with the melted snow starting to soak my socks. Do you know how hard it is to take off wet socks? Pretty damn hard.

I fumbled for the key that I kept in my front pocket, and jammed it into the key hole. If I wasn’t in such a rush, I probably would’ve made a sexual innuendo right then, but obviously, I had to let go of the opportunity and step inside.

“Jean, that you?” my roommate, Reiner, asked. He moved into my dorm a few months ago when he found out I didn’t have a roommate.

“No, it’s a robber who has a key to the room.”

“Fuck you,” he hollered. I rolled my eyes. Sometimes, he asks the dumbest questions and I’ve got no choice but to reply back in the snarkiest way possible.

Reiner wasn’t a too bad of a roommate. He kept the dorm room clean, which I appreciated. He’d also stock the mini fridge with root beers every time we’d run out. The only reason he did that, though, was because of a bet he lost. Reiner and I bet on whether or not Connie would be able to stuff baby carrots up his nose and then snort them out.

I won, naturally.

I took off my hat and scarf and chucked them onto my chair along with my coat. At this point, my fingers have finally gained enough feeling in them that I didn’t feel like I had frostbite. I walked over to Reiner, leaning over his shoulder. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“Homework. Did you do yours?”

_I don’t know._ “Possibly.”

“Check, because I can’t figure out this one problem.”

“Which one?”

“This one.” He pointed to number thirteen.

“Gee, that sure looks difficult.”

“Which is why I’m asking you if you did it.”

_Nope_. “Probably.”

“ _Check_ ,” Reiner emphasized, and I was about to give him a piece of my mind for bossing me around, but then I realized I didn’t feel like chewing him out. Plus, the dude’s almost twice my size and pretty damn intimidating, and I also didn’t feel like having my face rearranged. Not that Reiner would’ve done that to me, but you never know with a guy that size.

“Fine, fine.” I patted him on the shoulder and headed to the foot of my bed, where my messenger bag was. “What homework was it?”

“Trig.”

I groaned to myself and pulled out my math stuff. “It was a worksheet, right?”

“Did you even do it at all?”

“What’s with the horrible accusation?”

“By the way you’re asking me all these questions, something tells me that you had no idea we had homework to begin with.”

Lucky guess.

“That’s offensive,” I responded, walking back with the worksheet we had to do. “But incredibly true.”

“Jean, what’s the point of making me waste like, five minutes to get non-existent answers when I could’ve been using that time to finish the homework?”

“Don’t be such a baby; it was only five minutes, not five hours.”

“Did you at least do some of the problems?”

I shrugged, handing the paper to Reiner.

“You’re a real piece of work, Jean,” he said, rolling his eyes, checking the front and back to see if I actually did anything on it. “It’s completely blank. You realize this is due tomorrow, right?”

“If I knew, does it look like the worksheet would be blank?”

“Whatever,” Reiner relented, handing it back to me. “And don’t think I’m going to let you copy it in the first five minutes of class, tomorrow.”

I snorted. That’s what Reiner  _always_  said and the next day, he would always let me copy it as if the conversation we had the day before didn’t exist, so it didn’t bother me too badly when he said that. I walked over my bag and shoved it in, the edges becoming wrinkled at the force.

* * *

I groaned, pulling my feet closer to my chest when I realized my toes were pretty much numb. I opened my eyes, fumbling around, looking for my phone. I looked over to the side to find it on the ground, and I sighed. It must’ve fallen to the ground when I was sleeping. Turning the screen on, I groaned even louder when I realized there was still two hours until I actually had to wake up. I shivered under my covers, wiggling my toes to try and get some feeling back into them. It felt like it was -12 degrees in this dumb dorm, not to mention the heater didn't work either, so I was desperate to find some warmth.

How Reiner could sleep in this kind of temperature, I'll never know.

I didn't want to get out of bed but the cold was starting to crawl up my limbs and my blanket was not doing a very good job keeping them out. I glanced across the room where Reiner's bed was located, and I could hear him snore softy, his side rising up and down.

Lucky bastard.

I wrapped the covers around my body and rolled off the bed, falling to the ground. I grunted from the impact and laid there on the floor for a little bit until I realized that the floor was just a little bit warmer, thanks to the small oval shaped rug my mom had insisted on me buying. I didn't think I'd be so grateful of her persistent nagging until now.

I stayed there for a little while longer, relishing in all the warmth I could get from the carpet strands hugging my body. Eventually, I started to get the feeling that tiny little ants were crawling up and down my arm when I tried to move it and I slowly stood up, another shiver wracking my bones.

I decided to head into kitchen to make myself a cup of hot chocolate. The only thing I probably really liked about winter was the fact that I could drink hot chocolate, but I could drink hot chocolate whenever I wanted, so that pretty much ruled out everything I liked about it. I took a packet of hot chocolate power and tore it open, pouring it into a mug.

I let out a yawn as I shuffled over to the mini fridge where I kept small cartons of milk for my hot chocolate. The cold radiating from the fridge made me shudder and I quickly grabbed a carton and shut the door with my foot. I blinked tiredly at the carton, setting it on the counter, wondering if it was even worth all the effort to make hot chocolate. _I mean, the longer I stand here, the colder I get._  My eyes moved towards the mug filled with power and I sighed longingly.  _But the hot chocolate's gonna go to waste..._

What to do, what to do?

I made my decision when I pulled out another cup, opening one end of the milk carton and then the other, pouring its contents down into the plastic cup. I trudged over to the microwave, wincing every time my foot hit the cold tiles and placing it inside. 

Before pressing the four and five buttons, thoughts of the microwave waking Reiner up crossed my mind before I decided, fuck it, and pressed them. Who cares if I woke him up, anyway? It's not like he would, considering the fact that he practically sleeps like a rock. I'm pretty sure an elephant could come prancing through the hallways, making a racket, and he'd  _still_  be asleep.

When the forty-five seconds came up, the microwave beeped obnoxiously to let me know it was finished. Opening the door, I grabbed the plastic cup, moving over to where the mug is and grabbed one of those plastic spoons.

Reiner insisted on getting silverware, but it would've been a huge hassle to wash them all the time when you could just buy plastic utensils and throw them out when you're done. Plus, when we'd graduate from college, who'd take the spoons, then? We had a big fight over it, and by big fight, I meant a rock-paper-scissors game to determine whose idea was better. In the end, I beat him using rock, and we bought plastic utensils. Reiner washes them, anyway though, complaining about how much money we'd spend if we threw every spoon and fork away.

What a loser.

When I had finish stirring the milk into the power, I chucked the spoon to the trash can, figuring Reiner would see it later and yell at me for it. I put marshmallows in it, finding the fact that they dissolved rather quickly satisfying. There was just something about it that made me happy. Kind of wished my problems would do that, but life doesn't really work that way.

I crawled back into bed, sipping my cheap, college student budget hot chocolate, enjoying the warmth that spread through my entire body. I could feel it slide down my throat, the sweet aftertaste leaving me sigh in content.

At least winter had one thing right.


End file.
